QUIET ,, fred w.

xiv.

dear ginger,

no, that's not good.

dear carrots,

ugh. definitely get rid of that.

dear pretty boy,

woah. too lovey dove-y.

dear fred,

y/n slumped back in her chair, tired. she laid her quill down and flexed her fingers, releasing the tension she'd been stubbornly holding in while she tried to manage an apology letter to fred. if she had been counting correctly, it had taken her more than eight tries to finally settle on simply using his name instead of a nickname. she wanted to use a nickname, some term of endearment to express her sincerity. not that using his name was bland—maybe it held even more emotion than she first thought it to have.

y/n shuffled in her seat, pulling herself back up to the letter. she picked up the quill between the pads of her fingers and doused it in ink. she let out a quick, silent breath and began scribbling on the page.

it's been quite a while since we have last seen each other. or since we have last talked. george tends to send me letters, but I have been having a more difficult time responding.

the girl paused, pursing her lips. she wanted to apologize, but she wanted it to stick, to mold into his heart and stay—she wanted it to mean something to him.

your mother invited me to the quidditch tournament. I think I'll go. I wish sirius could too. living with him has been the best experience by far.

y/n frowned.

...y far. other than being best friends with you.

did you know sirius has a funny way of cooking waffles? he says I used to adore wolf waffles, so he cooks them in some demented shape that he tries to convince me is the shape of a wolf. I laugh every time, but truthfully I have a difficult time remembering if I even liked waffles at that age.

I want to tell you that I have not, and will never, fault you for anything. if you choose to disregard my letter after my absence to you, I wholeheartedly agree. or if you feel you have done something wrong, heed my words: you are most undoubtedly wrong. I often wonder if you forget I am my own person and you the same. merlin forbid someone swallowed your heart, and you would blame yourself.

I seem to be diverting myself off-track. so, simply put, do as you wish with this, but know in your heart and mind that I am so dearly sorry. an entire summer without a word, I have been terrible.

let me make it up to you at the quidditch tournament, fred, if you so choose to.

love your number one fan,
y/n l/n.

the creak of a door drew y/n up from her letter. dusty brown curls peeked their way through the opening.

"dad," y/n said, turning over her shoulder to smile at him. sirius swung the door open and came into view. his appearance, although his eyes still reflected the years of torture, was more relaxed and healthy. he had gained a bit more weight, and the tangles in his hair had been thoroughly tussled with by the both of them—it had been a long day's work, but the two managed to giggle all the way through.

"hey, kiddo," he said, his voice gravelly underneath his thick mustache. his brows crinkled together when he noticed the letter. "that the one you've been dreading?" y/n winced in response. "alright. need any help?"

she shook her head softly. "thanks, but I got it."

sirius stood there for a moment, watching his daughter. he was overjoyed, but his features were sunken and solemn. "I thought about the quidditch game more."